Heart of Ice
by Leap of fate
Summary: Edward's POV. What does Edward think about alone in his mansion after he was driven from town for good? What he could never have? A normal life and normal love?


Heart of Ice

Disclaimer: I don't own Edward Scissorhands or anything affiliated with him or the movie, it's Tim Burton and the big-wig movie execs, but oh what I could do with Johnny Depp *dreamy eyes* ahem, I was watching E.S for the millionth time tonight and was inspired to write a lil something, probably a one off to express myself and as a creative outlet. If you can think of ways of continuing it then of course leave 'em in a review or email and I'll see what I can do. It's from Edward's POV after the movie, probably what he'd spend his time thinking about and doing after the excitement of the movie's events when he's alone up in the mansion. I hope you enjoy! And I hope even more that you review *hint, hint*. Thanks for coming to read.

*

Snow. 

That's what it's called, or so I've heard. When rain turns so cold it freezes. I like snow, its cold- like me. The feeling of it against my skin, soft, fleeting, it's a comfort, before it melts away to nothingness as if it never existed. Like me. I would imagine, for a brief moment, I was like the snow in that little suburb so near and yet so far below me. I descended from above, at first I was a 'unique' and 'exquisite' snowflake, untouched and naïve, then my novelty melted away, and so did my friends. Now they probably don't even remember me at all. I've always been alone, always will be. It made me feel human for a time, living among them, so eagerly accepted. But I'm not human. I'm a monster. The Boggs could take me in, show me off, and protect me like a delicate flake of snow, but they couldn't make me human, couldn't make me fit in. I could never be like them. A 'freak'. They were quick to fling names, accusations once they tired of my freshness, and then I was just a misfit. 

I look down there on occasion. I'm not bitter. They had their reasons. I wouldn't take me in. My father never thought me through. He intended to be there, intended to live forever, then I wouldn't be alone. Not waking up wasn't part of his plan. He was supposed to wake up, supposed to finish me, give me hands, to touch, to feel, to love. But I never will. The 'doctor friend's' I was offered to complete me disappeared after that night I was taken away from the Boggs, stayed in that cold place. They didn't like to look at me there, never looked me in the eyes, never looked at the ends of my wrists either. Even the ones that they called criminals wouldn't look at me. 

It's cold up here, but I don't feel it. I don't acknowledge anything, I just sculpt and cut and whittle away. It's all I'm good for after all. A hairdresser or hedge trimmer, a discardable tool that was helpful at the time. It looks so warm down there. I can see Her house if I look hard enough- I always look hard enough. I see Peg leave her pretty pastel house, walk down the neatly trimmed roads, watch cars pull away at exactly the same time every morning and arrive home the same time each night. And I catch glimpses of Her, walking to and from school. A tiny speck, so small but so beautiful, like a snowflake. But I'm not welcome down there.

I wonder how much time has passed since I left, it doesn't mean anything to me. Days, months, years? It slips by, I wonder what She is doing, if Her thoughts still linger on me as mine do on Her. Has She moved on? Of course She has, She can't live a happy dream as I must, She can make her own happiness. Perhaps She has a husband. A beautiful daughter or son of her own? I know She's still down there, I feel Her inside me, I can't even explain it, because I don't understand it. I'm trapped in memories of my short time down there, I can never escape.

So now I stand up here alone, carving and shaping sculptures, women mostly, angels. They remind me of Her, the one woman who truly looked past the metal that prevented me from touching her. She asked me anyway though. Asked me to hold her. She was so warm, not like me. Her body fitted against mine so perfectly, as if we were one person, split down the middle, reunited for a brief moment. That too melted away. 

She knew I could never be with Her, never live the life I dream about us. She accepted me, but She could not change the mind of the others. They still saw me as a monster, a danger to them. I never hurt them once. They fear what is different, fear me because of these…things. I hate them so. I would cut them off, but it would sever the last ties to Her that remain, my sculptures. I see Her in their faces, see Her dancing, arms stretched to the sky, eyes closed, smile of contentment and pure happiness on her exquisite face. She looks like that every day in my dream. The world is so different there, the people are too. It's like the first barbeque Peg held, everyone was so excited, so kindly, so interested. And She's there. Kim. Wearing that same beautiful white dress, looking like the angel I carved in her image, the angel she danced under. She always smiles. And I have hands, real human hands. I hold her, hold her tight. I never let go of her the first time she held me, I'm still holding her now, inside me. So I sculpt for her, I know she sees it, I can sense that she does. It's all I have, my dream and my memories, but somehow it's enough. It's enough because when I think of Kim, I don't need hands to complete me, because she does it instead. I'm not cold like a little snowflake anymore, for a fleeting moment I'm warm inside, just like her.

*

Crappy? Or not so crappy? Bear in mind it's like 2.03 AM while I write this, so forgive grammatical or spelling errors or anything like that, I plead sleep deprivation. That fulfilled my E.S plot-bunny needs, but what did you think? I know that Edward was never that articulate in the movie, but I felt like he could express himself in that way, and he didn't have to be a total conversation moron in his head, everyone is more intelligent in their heads right? Well, apart from moi, hehe. So sorry if he was a little out of character, I hope he wasn't too much. If there's a way of continuing it that you can think of then of course let me know, and please be constructive with your criticism, I'm fragile dontcha know. Thanks muchly for reading, I hope you review *puppydog eyes* but yanno, do what you like of course. Thanks again.

xXx


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